


Three Musketeers

by Waffle-o (XylB)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: FAHC, GTA Universe, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 12:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18828691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/Waffle-o
Summary: A little slice-of-life, domestic FAHC Mavinsay fic!





	Three Musketeers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CrossedMoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrossedMoon/gifts).



> A secret event fic for crossedmoon! Hope you like it!

"I bet - I bet that Lindsay could beat you, Michael." 

"Beat me? What, up? Yeah she could," Michael agrees. 

"No, no, in a race. A bike race." 

"Bicycles or motorbikes?" Lindsay asks, tapping her lollipop against her lips. Gavin rolls his eyes, smiling. 

"Bicycles or - sure, bicycles, I want you two to race on  _bicycles_. Yeah." 

"I mean sure, if you want," Michael says, pretending to stand up - Gavin flails to grab him and tug him down again, and Lindsay downs the rest of her drink. 

"I'd definitely beat him on bicycles," Lindsay states. "My thighs out-bike his." 

"Yeah, she's got me there," Michael admits, pinching her cheek. 

"But motorbikes," Gavin insists. "C'mon, we're not doing anything else." 

"You know what, sure, fuck it." 

"Yeah, boi. Linds, you in?" 

"Oh hell yeah," Lindsay agrees, biting down on her lollipop to crack it in one bite. She leaves the empty stick in her empty glass and gets up to leave - Gavin sorts out the tab, and Michael hooks an arm around his waist, and away they go for a race that will  _surely_  get them some brownie points with Jack. 

They start out just riding - Michael on his fast, growly black bike, and Lindsay on her white one, with Gavin sitting behind her, whooping as she weaves around traffic. A peaceful start just to get them out of the knot of inner-city traffic and onto the wider, freer motorways. 

Michael loves the two idiots. He can hear their laughter over his comms and in the whipping air, and he  _loves_  them, and twists his bike into a higher gear to coax Lindsay into the race proper. 

As predicted, and as usual, they get caught up in the thrill, the chase, tagging each other through the streets of Los Santos as they gradually make their way back north, shrieking and yelling and shouting like hooligans while they grind dust clouds into the hot desert air. 

They pull to a stop near a beach, helmets clattering to the ground almost in unison. Gavin staggers off of Lindsay's bike, weak with laughter and adrenaline and Michael catches him just before he staggers right over onto his stupid face. And then he kisses that stupid face, and Gavin wraps an arm around him, and for a moment Michael forgets where he is, forgets about the wind whipping at his cheeks. 

"Hey, get a room!" Lindsay calls from literally a foot next to them, tossing a balled-up lollipop wrapper at Gavin's head. He startles, and Lindsay grins around her sweet, popping it out of her mouth so Gavin can kiss her as well, his other arm looping around her shoulders to play with the ends of her hair. 

"What colour you doin' next?" Michael asks. 

"Dunno," Lindsay replies, leaning over to kiss him on the nose. "I was thinking red again." 

"The pink suits you," Gavin says, twirling a strand around his finger. "'S nice and bright. Like you." 

"That's so romantic," Lindsay teases, tapping her lollipop against Gavin's nose. He pulls a face at the stickiness. 

"Okay, so," Gavin says a moment later, breaking Michael's laughter. "Who won?" 

"I did," Michael and Lindsay exclaim simultaneously. They glare at each other, eyes narrowed. 

"Ooh, sounds like a rematch," Gavin laughs. 

This time, he's on the back of Michael's bike ("Can I drive?" "Hell no, I like my bike in one fuckin' piece, thank you" "You're so mean, Michael") and they roar all the way up to Blaine. 

(Lindsay wins.) 

\-- 

"All right, all right, million dollars, but you have to wear rollerblades everywhere for a year." 

"Rollerblades or like, the quad ones?" Lindsay asks, half-muffled into Gavin's middle. 

"Done," Michael says, slamming his can down for emphasis. "Give 'em." 

"Well I don't  _have_  a million dollars, do I?" Gavin replies, sprawled dramatically on the sofa. 

"Then why'd you ask, dipshit?" 

"Michael," Gavin giggles. Michael reaches over to ruffle his hair and Gavin clumsily pushes him away, trying not to laugh too hard so he doesn't disturb Lindsay. She's awake, but sleepily, dozing on Gavin's middle while he strokes her hair, carding his fingers through bright red strands. 

"I dare you to dye it tie-dye," he murmurs. 

"Don't fucking say that, you know she'll fucking do it," Michael warns, his eyes locked on the TV. His thumbs move quick on the controller in his lap. 

"Mhmm," Lindsay agrees lazily. 

"And sure, yeah, you can have quad ones," Gavin clarifies. 

"Man, your feet would  _stink_  after that year," Michael comments. 

"Well, you could take them off to clean them." 

"That wasn't the deal." 

"Okay but you'd be  _disgusting_." 

"Yeah exactly, done. I'll be gross for a year if it means a million dollars." 

"Michael, you're so nasty." 

The conversation slowly quiets and fades away as Lindsay starts snoring softly on Gavin's abdomen, her arm dangling off the sofa. Michael turns down the volume on the TV and Gavin winces at the zombie gore splattering on-screen. It's comfortable, peaceful in their flat, with the late afternoon sun streaming through the windows. 

Gavin gently pets Lindsay's hair and cheek, rests his head against the arm of the sofa, and lets his eyes close in lazy content. The sounds of Michael's gaming and Lindsay's breathing is comforting,  _domestic_  in a way Gavin never thought he could have, and just the thought makes his heart squeeze in his chest. 

He stirs when something touches his head - Michael's lips, he finds, when he moves. Michael gently places a hand on his shoulder, easing him back into his comfy spot on the sofa. 

"Shh, I'm just getting up to make dinner," Michael whispers. "I'll wake you guys up when it's done." 

"Mmkay," Gavin hums, barely vocalised, and he's awake just enough to feel Michael kiss Lindsay on the cheek before he's asleep again. 

\-- 

"I dare you to streak." 

"Streak? Gavin, it's our fucking private pool, what's the point of streaking?! You've seen me naked!" 

"Yeah but 's different. Anyone could see." 

"Anyone  _who_?! We're on the top of the  _roof_!" 

"I dunno...police?" 

Lindsay breaks out laughing at that, unable to keep silent any longer, and the two boys look down at her between them, where she's actually in the pool. 

"You agree with me, yeah, Lindsay?" Gavin asks, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. 

"I mean yeah, a cop  _might_  see you," she agrees, because how can she  _not_  agree with Gavin, not when it means Michael makes that constipated face. She playfully pokes their legs on either side of her - because her boyfriends are cowards who have yet to actually get into the water rather than sit on the edge. 

"I hate you both," Michael sighs, kicking a leg up to splash them. 

"Hey, I don't want your - foot water," Gavin protests, spluttering. 

Lindsay just splashes Michael back - and Michael splashes her, and she retaliates - splish, splash, splish, splash, back and forth - and then a foamy  _thunk_  slaps against her wrist and she looks up to meet Gavin's eyes, a pool noodle waving threateningly in his hand. 

"Noodle fight?" Michael asks, reaching behind him for his. 

"Wait, let me get - " Lindsay breaks into a shrill scream as they both  _whack_  at her, slipping into the pool to give chase while she frantically tries to swim towards her abandoned noodle, floating despondently on the other side. 

Blows land on her legs and her back, and her only revenge is to kick more, soaking them both as they advance on her - once she wrangles her pool noodle from the edge, she turns around, wielding it like a sword. 

"Three, two, -  _BAH_ ," Gavin's countdown is cut off by Michael hitting him across the face and all civility devolves into noodle whacking, chunks of foam flying out when Lindsay's nails catch on the ends. Loyalties change as quickly as the ripples - Michael and Gavin hail down blows on Lindsay, until she dives underwater and then it's her and Michael ganging up on Gavin, thwacking him while she tugs on his ankle to pull him underneath with her - Gavin's scream makes them both laugh too hard to keep it up, and then the teams change all over again. 

When they're all tired out from the noodle fight, foam bits floating around them, the sun quickly drying anything exposed to it, they make a tentative truce. Mostly it's because Lindsay's too busy admiring her boyfriends when they get out of the pool to grab drinks and the fact the warm summer sun makes her want to catnap. 

"So, we ordering pizza later?" Gavin asks, swim-walking towards Lindsay to hand her her beer. She takes it with a kiss, and feels Michael sidle up to her other side. 

"Or we could cook," Michael says, looking at Lindsay. "It's your turn, Linds." 

"We're ordering," she confirms, nodding her head. Michael cracks up at that. 

"A woman after my own heart," Gavin jokes, his hand reaching out underwater to hold Michael's. 

Michael rests his arm over Lindsay's shoulders to pinch her cheek on the other side. 

"You guys are so lazy," he says. 

"Yep," they respond at the same time. 


End file.
